Hell Hath No Fury
by Greasepaint
Summary: Becks gets dumped and drowns her sorrows in the local club. After accidently knocking her bag to the floor, she realizes the weirdo who's been watching her, has run off with her keys. Can he help her get revenge on the love rat?
1. Chapter 1 Exit the Rat

Hell Hath No Fury

I'd been minding my own business; just sitting on the bar stool staring into my vodka and coke, trying to block out the pulsating sounds of the latest club mix, when I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He was staring at me intently; which began to freak me out. I don't know what it is about me, but I always seem to attract the nutters and weirdo's, and this one was no exception; a face full of make-up – not even in decent tranny style, but more like some demonic clown! And I couldn't be sure, what with the lights and all, but it looked like his wavy hair had a greenish tint – probably a dye job gone wrong! Still, it takes all sorts – live and let live is my motto! I made a show of finishing my drink, intending to get the message across that I was done and out of there. It had been a mistake coming to the Eclipse club tonight. I should have stayed at home and got drunk on my own whilst listening to sad love songs. Clumsy as ever, I knocked my bag over and most of the contents spilt to the floor. 'Shit!' I muttered under my breath as I knelt down to recover my things. That was when he made his move. To this day I still remember it as being like a cat stalking a mouse. I froze; waiting for him to pounce. When nothing happened I hurriedly refilled my bag. I rose to find him sitting in my vacated seat. I must have gasped in surprise as he turned to face me, his dark eyes burning into my own and enquired nonchalantly, "Did I scare you?"

Two hours later, I was ringing the front door bell of my best mate, Cat's apartment.

"Becks! What the hell are you doing here? It's one thirty in the bloody morning!"

"I know; I'm sorry! I just couldn't think of anywhere else to go!" I sobbed.

"You'd better come in then", she yawned, stepping aside to let me through.

Now don't go thinking that Cat's an insensitive bitch and a poor excuse for a best friend, but I seem to roll from one disaster to another, and she's always there to pick up the pieces. I know she's getting pissed off with me constantly crying and moaning on her shoulder, but hell, _I'm_ pissed off too!

"I'll put the kettle on, that's unless you want a proper drink?"

"No, coffee'll be fine. Hang on; on second thoughts I'll have a drop of brandy in it if that's okay." I took off my jacket and draped it over the back of the luxurious three seater sofa. I was tempted to lie there and sink into it, disappear forever, but thought better of it. Seeing as Cat had dragged herself out of bed for me, it didn't seem right, so I perched on the edge, burying my face in my hands. Cat busied herself in the kitchen as I thought back over the events of the evening. I really should have stayed home instead of going out. But seeing as I'd just been dumped by my long-standing boyfriend Matt, who I'd thought was the love of my life, I felt I needed to get him well and truly out of my system. And let's face it; I was already dressed to go out. I'd spent all afternoon pampering myself; getting ready for what was supposed to be a party to announce our engagement. I'd felt so smug as I sat on the loo seat, shaving my legs, visualizing the congratulations from my mum and dad as Matt made the announcement. I now know that as I watched the mixture of shaving gel and leg hairs disappearing rapidly down the shower drain, the same thing was happening to my relationship with The Rat as I've since re-named him.

My thoughts were interrupted by Cat as she handed me a steaming mug of coffee and brandy. "So, I gather the announcement didn't go down too well" she sighed as she sat beside me with her mug of tea.

"Oh, that's not the half of it!" I exploded. "We never even got as far as my parent's house. Not after I found a text from The Bitch on his phone, reminding him that nothing need change, and inviting him over to hers for a pre-engagement shag!"

"What! You mean _the _Bitch – as in ex-girlfriend Soozie?"

"Yeah. Apparently they've been seeing each other for _months_! All those Tuesday nights when I thought he was playing football, he was with _her_!"

"Oh Becks, I'm so sorry. I honestly thought you'd finally found yourself a decent bloke. I mean, you've been together for over a year! And he always acted as if he adored you."

Yeah well, unfortunately for me, he still adored her too. So much so that he thought he could have us both. I felt such a fool! Of course he was so bloody attentive; it was guilt! I told her all about my sorrowful evening nursing one drink, as I tried to convince myself that it was better to find out now what sort of a rat he was. By three o' clock it was way too late to make my way home through the dark criminal-owned streets of Gotham, so Cat suggested I stay over. Which was just as well, because when I rooted around in my bag for the extra tampax I'd brought with me, I found that not only were _they _missing, but my keys as well. The keys that had my name and address on the Tweetie Pie keyring. I must have missed them when I was scrambling around on the floor of the club to retrieve the contents of my bag. I tipped everything out, in the hope of finding them – the keys that is – the tampax I could get off Cat. I sorted through all the junk that spilled out onto the carpet. Lipstick, powder, mascara, old bus tickets, old till receipts, a piece of card, my nearly empty purse. I gathered up all the old paper stuff to chuck in the bin. As I disposed of it all, the card landed on top. It was from an ordinary pack of playing cards.

"How the hell did this get in here?" I mused aloud. "I don't even own a pack of cards."

"Let me look at that," said Cat as she reached into the bin. "Oh. My. God!"

"What?"

"That weird guy who nicked your seat? You don't know who that was?"

"No. Should I?"

She turned the card over to reveal the joker card. "Only Gotham's very own big bad wolf – The Joker!"

I stood there; my mouth hanging open in shock. I'd obviously read the reports in the paper about this freak and his henchmen, but not taken much notice. After all, we moved in different worlds, so it wasn't likely our paths would ever cross, was it? Oh how wrong I'd been! This Joker guy must have helped himself to some of the things that fell out of my bag. Which meant apart from having a rather disturbing fetish for tampons, he was now also in possession of my house keys, complete with my name and address on them.

Oh shit.


	2. Chapter 2 Kindred Spirits?

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Joker. Becks and Cat are mine though, and have been for more years than I care to remember!**

Chapter 2

Kindred Spirits?

He'd gone to the club alone, to mull over what to do for the next heist. It wasn't that he needed the money; he practically owned the city as it was. No, what turned him on was the thrill of seeing a carefully laid plan come to fruition. Such a plan, on _his_ terms, usually meant absolute and utter chaos for others. And he loved it! He lived for the pure rush of adrenaline when everything played out the way he wanted. He was the director, and the rest of the population were his actors; there to play their roles whether they knew it or not.

"What'll it be, boss?" asked Ted, the barman. "The usual?"

The man known as The Joker nodded in affirmation, then signalled with his eyes to where a lone young woman was staring into a half empty glass. "Who's the babe?"

"Dunno. Never seen her in here before," came back the disinterested reply.

"Mmmmm, is that so?" The Joker murmured as he took a swig of the Jack Daniels the bartender had set before him.

"Bin sat there for nearly an hour with that same drink. Bloody skinflint! She's not gonna increase tonight's takings! I wish she'd go and take her miserable face somewhere else; she'll be puttin' the punters off!"

Suddenly the Jack Daniels was sent flying and Ted was struggling for breath as a gloved hand grasped his throat in a snake-like vice.

"That's not _nice_! When people _look_ miserable it's usually because they _are_ miserable! And do you know why?"

Ted shook his head, eyes bulging, frantically trying to suck precious air into his screaming lungs.

"No? I'll tell ya why. It's generally because sumthin' bad's happened to 'em. And _I_ know all about that! How d'ya think my face got all sliced up?"

"I ...d,d, don't … know!"

"That's right, you _don't_! And if you wanna stay on the right side of _me_, you'll keep your opinions to yourself in future. Capiche?" Without waiting for an answer, he released his grip, and a shaken Ted busied himself clearing up the spilt drink.

The whole incident was over as suddenly as it had begun, with no-one any the wiser to the violence that had just taken place.

The Joker continued to watch the object of his interest. She intrigued him for reasons he couldn't fully understand. It wasn't so much the soft blonde curls, so like his own before he'd reached for the green dye, in a fit of rage at the massacre that had become the face he now owned. No, it had more to do with the desolate air of sadness and pain that seemed to envelop her as she sat hunched over the bar, lost in private thought. He caught her looking back at him, and quickly engaged in genial conversation with Ted, who was thinking that such a sudden mood change was not normal, but wisely decided not to draw attention to the fact.

When he saw her on the floor, picking up the contents of her bag, he walked over, and sat in her chair. She looked so horrified to find him in her seat that he couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice as her brown eyes locked with his own, and he enquired, "Did I scare you?"

"No, no, not at all!" she flustered, then, "Well, yes, actually you did, but I've got to go! Sorry!" And with that, she grabbed her bag and fled out of the bar; failing to notice the bunch of keys and feminine articles that lay on the floor under what had been her seat.

The key ring, a typically girly one of a cartoon character, informed him of her name and address. Good! That made his intention to get to know her better so much easier! He smiled to himself as he put them all, including the personal items, into the pocket of his long purple coat.

He could hardly wait for the moment when he would return her belongings to her – _all_ of them! They would certainly make an interesting conversation opener!


	3. Chapter 3 The Morning After The Night Be

**Many thanks to mariofan2, ..girl and SoxChic09 for your reviews. **

Chapter 3

The Morning After The Night Before

How could I have been so stupid as to lose my keys? My dad had kept warning me of the possible consequences of keeping my name and address on them. But me being me, I just hadn't paid any attention, and now I was paying the price. Because evidently it wouldn't be some kind old lady who had found them, and would no doubt have returned them, but this madman everyone called The Joker. Well, that was just great! Well done Becks! You fucked up yet again! From the way he'd been studying me in the club, he'd obviously be coming after me. Neither Cat nor I got any sleep after that. We spent until the first signs of daylight discussing various ways of dealing with the situation.

"What if I moved out? He wouldn't be able to find me then," I slurred at one point, after my fifth, rather large, brandy.

"Don't even bother; he's probably there already, waiting for you to put in an appearance."

"Nooooo, don't say that," I moaned. Then, "Uh, oh!"

"What?"

"D'ya think he'll break in?"

"Why would he do that, you muppet, if he's got your keys?" she stated, oblivious to the look of horror on my face. "I mean, he's bound to take a look around, isn't he? After all; that way, if you don't show up, he can learn _ soooo_ much more about you! Oh my god, it's rather exciting if you think about it! He'll feel like he's on a treasure hunt, finding all the clues, leading to _you_ as the main prize!"

"Cat, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but that's really _not what I want to hear! _Besides, I don't want some psycho rooting through all my personal belongings!"

"Oh, y'mean all that kinky gear Matt the Rat got you to wear? Yeah, I see what you mean … on the other hand, it might work in your favour, y'know? He'll realize there's someone even sicker than him around, and won't want anything to do with you!"

"Gee thanks! That makes me feel so much better," I said, followed by a very loud noxious burp. "Oh hell … I think I'm gonna be sick!" And with that, proceeded to throw up all over Cat's brand new carpet.

I woke later that afternoon, still on the sofa, covered with Cat's duvet. My head felt as though it was about to explode. I had visions of globules of grey brain matter flying through the air before landing with a heavy splat onto the carpet that was still damp from where it had been scrubbed to hell and back with industrial strength disinfectant and carpet wash.

Cat stood over me, scowling. "Next time you throw up in my house you can clean up your own stomach contents! Here, drink this, it'll make you feel better," she said, thrusting a glass of what looked like Alka-Seltzer under my nose.

I took the fizzing liquid and sipped, pulling a face at the taste of it. "Don't worry; I'm never going to drink again! God, my neck hurts!"

"Yeah, well, that's probably from sleeping on the sofa without a pillow. I didn't want to move you, in case you gave a repeat performance. And there was no _way _ I was gonna give you bed-space!"

"Oh, come on! You know you love me really." I winced in pain. My head and my neck were battling for supremacy, and my stomach churned as it awoke from its slumber; no doubt ready to join in the fight to beat me into total submission.

There was a knock at the door. Cat signalled to me to try and make myself look presentable; a bit difficult seeing as I was still wearing last night's make-up, which meant I was most likely sporting a pair of smudged black eyes to rival the Joker himself. My ivory dress was badly creased and proudly displaying a brandy stain down the front – _way_ down – as if to say, _Look everyone! She's wet herself! _

I made my way slowly into the bathroom to cleanse my face. There wasn't anything I could do about the dress, and Cat's size 16 clothes would drown me. First things first, though; I desperately needed to pee. I sighed with relief as I emptied my bladder.

"Becks, hurry up! We've got to go!" called Cat, from the living room.

"Go where? Hang on a minute, I need to do my face!" I shouted back.

"Don't worry about your face; you haven't got time for that!" She rushed in, pulled me out, and then handed me my shoes. "I called the police department while you were asleep. I told them exactly what happened last night and that you didn't want to go back home on your own. So they've sent one of their guys over here. We're all going back to yours, then Officer –?"

"Harrington," said the young rookie.

"Officer Harrington will check out your place to make sure there's no-one there who shouldn't be."

"Yes, Maam, and I've arranged for a locksmith to come and change the locks."

As hung-over as I was, I got the message that Cat was concerned at the possibility of my becoming a permanent feature in her house. I perched on the edge of the sofa, and bent down to put on my shoes. My head pounded and my eyes felt as if they were going to burst out of their sockets. I couldn't decide who I wanted to kill the most – Matt, for two-timing me; bitch-features Soozie for not leaving him the hell alone; or the Joker for getting me in such a panic that I was ready to emigrate to outer Siberia if that's what it was going to take to stay alive.

I stood up to take my coat off Cat. "I feel like hell!"

She shook her head at me. "No offence, but you don't look too great either. Anyway, don't worry, I'm coming with you."

I mumbled some words of gratitude to her and Officer Harrington, before picking up my bag and following them out of the door.

"This is it," said Cat to Officer 'call me Bob' – Harrington, as we pulled up in the police car outside my block. There didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary going on from the outside, but then I lived on the 8th floor, so it was unlikely that there would be. That is if you didn't count the odd needle, empty beer bottle or used condom littering the entrance. What a dump! Still, it had been my choice to live here. Well, not my first choice, obviously, but I'd been going crazy living with my parents, and wanted some independence.

"I suggest we go up," said Bob. "The locksmith should be here in about half an hour. That gives us time to check the place over."

We went through the lobby, and called for the elevator. When the doors opened, we were greeted by the smell of stale pee – nothing new to me – but Cat and Bob couldn't disguise their disgust as they wrinkled their noses, before the doors closed. My still-delicate stomach growled in protest as the elevator creaked towards the 8th floor.

We exited quickly, glad to breathe freely again. "Ok, this is mine," I pointed towards number 39.

Bob bent down to scrutinize the lock. "It doesn't look like it's been tampered with."

"No shit, Sherlock," I commented under my breath, at which Cat gave me a filthy look.

"Now, if you ladies would look away, I'll see if I can get this door open; don't want to go teaching you any bad habits!"

We turned our backs, raising our eyebrows at each other, as if to say, 'what a jerk!'

"Er, I'm having a few problems here," said Bob after a couple of minutes. "Maybe we should just wait for the locksmith."

I was about to suggest we wait outside in the fresh air, when the door was flung open from the inside, to reveal the Joker, looking for all the world as if it was _his_ place and not mine.

He took one look at me, shook his head in amusement, and said, "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. And people say I look rough!"

It was at that moment that the ordeal of being incarcerated in the elevator got the better of me.

I threw up again. All over the Joker's immaculate shoes.

**Next chapter will have a lot more of The Joker in it! These first 3 have just been setting up the main story. Hope you've enjoyed this one though, and had a few laughs along the way!**


	4. Chapter 4 A Dark Knight in shining arm

**Thanks again to: Gabriel Ledger, Mariofan2, Selene is the Joker's girl, SoxChick09 and Zenrockstar for your reviews! They help me to keep writing!**

Chapter 4

A (Dark) Knight in shining armour!

My eyes widened in horror as I looked up into the Joker's face. Oh God, did he look pissed off! Cat and Bob both took a step back as if to say, Sorry Becks, you're on your own!

"I … I …," I babbled, before recovering the power of speech and looking directly into his eyes and demanding, "What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?"

He continued to face me down, remaining silent. Only a tiny muscle that was twitching at the side of his jaw gave away how close he was to losing control.

"Well?" I repeated, this time with a slight tremor.

"I was returning these," he said, holding out my keys. Then in a softer voice, he bent and whispered in my ear, "And also your erm, more _personal_ belongings."

Blushing furiously, embarrassment got the better of fear, and I pushed him aside and gained entry into my living room. He made to follow me, but I stopped him with a sharp, "GET THOSE SHOES OFF BEFORE YOU COME BACK IN HERE!"

"But," he looked at the key ring, "Re-be-ca, what's on 'em belongs to _you!_"

"I don't care! Get 'em off! Now!"

"I thought ya'd never ask!"

I spun round; armed with the baseball bat I kept behind the door.

"Okay, okay," he held up his arms in defeat before resting one hand on the wall, whilst removing his shoes with the other. Cat and Officer Bob took the opportunity to walk in ahead of him. Cat mouthed silently, "What are you _doing_? He's _crazy_!" accompanied by using her finger to make small circles at the side of her head.

That was a good question; and I had absolutely no idea. After shrugging my shoulders in reply, I gestured to the two of them to sit down. Holding on to the bat, I rapidly checked the kitchen, bathroom, and finally, my bedroom. Nothing appeared to have been touched. I could hear the three of them in conversation; somewhat along the lines of Bob reminding the Joker that there_ were_ other ways of returning lost property, and the Joker saying, "Oh, yeah, like _I'm_ gonna walk into the _police department_ to do my good deed for the day!" This was followed by laughter. I shook my head to clear it of the insanity of what was taking place, before using their impromptu bonding session to get rid of some of the more risqué items from my wardrobe. I grabbed an empty shopping bag. First to go was the nurse's outfit, swiftly followed by the black and white silk maids dress complete with its black feather duster. I can't believe I let Matt the Rat goad me into wearing all this crap! I was just stuffing the school-girl ensemble into the bag, when I heard the bedroom door close behind me.

"What ya doin?"

I quickly hid the offending articles behind my back, as the Joker strode up to me.

"Nothing!"

"Yes, you are. What are you hiding?"

"Nothing," I repeated, although not very convincingly.

He looked down at me, licking his red lips. "I don't believe you," he said, with a smile.

"It's really nothing! Just some old stuff I'm getting rid of." I backed away, still with the bag behind my back.

"Then let me see," he whispered, as he advanced.

"NO!" I tried to step further away, but was stopped by the wall. With the wardrobe blocking my path on one side, and the window on the other, I'd literally been backed into a corner.

The Joker reached behind me and wrestled the bag from out of my grasp. I could smell a trace of musk as he bent down to look me in the face. "YES!" he hissed as he held it up in triumph. "Now, let's see what you have in here!"

I nearly died with embarrassment as one by one he lifted out each bit of clothing.

"So, whose the lucky guy?" he asked, before pausing. "Or maybe there's a lucky girl?"

"No, there's no girl, and now there's no guy either!" I screamed, before wrenching the feather duster from his hand. "_And I fucking_ _hate him_!"

"Is everything okay in there?" shouted Cat.

"No it fucking isn't!" I yelled, and threw myself onto the bed, where I punched the hell out of the pillows. With each blow, I imagined it was Matt's smug face that I was caving in.

In my anger, I'd completely forgotten about the Joker, until I felt his strong arms pulling me up, cradling me to his chest. A gloved hand stroked my hair as he rocked me gently, all the while reassuring me that everything was going to be okay. I clung to him desperately, feeding off his strength, as I cried and gulped my way through the whole sorry saga that had unfolded before me over the past 48 hours. When I'd finally calmed down, the Joker held my face between his hands and wiped away my tears with his thumbs. Then he drew his face level with mine, so close that I could feel his hot breath on my lips. He spoke so quietly, I couldn't make out what he was saying. With that, he planted a gentle kiss on my cheek before playfully cuffing me on the chin. Then he stood up and quietly left me on my own as he returned to the living room. The ensuing conversation revolved around Matt and Soozie's betrayal.

It was only when I heard the Joker saying goodbye, before slamming the door on his way out that I finally understood what he'd said to me. At the time I thought he might have been referring to the outfits, saying, "I'll bin 'em for ya!" Now I knew I'd been mistaken. What he'd actually said was, "I'll _kill 'em_ for ya!"

I leapt off the bed and ran into the living room. "Where did he go?" I screamed.

"I don't know," answered Bob. "He was very cryptic; said he had to see a man about a dog!"

If I'd needed any more confirmation of the Joker's words, that was it. The man was Matt, and the dog was that bitch Soozie.

"Look, both of you do me a favour and get round to Matt's as quick as you can, 'cos at this moment he's top of the Joker's hit list!"

They were halfway out of the door when Cat asked, "Aren't _you_ coming?"

"I'll follow you in a bit. I need to get myself cleaned up first and put some suitable clothes on."

I closed the door behind them and went into the bathroom to shower. I took my time, revelling in the fact that the most feared criminal in Gotham was turning out to be my knight in shining armour. For a brief moment, as I breathed in the fragrance of the musky shower gel, which brought back memories of the Joker, I wondered if should feel any sympathy for the Rat.

Nah! What the hell! He deserves everything that's coming to him!


	5. Chapter 5 Take A Walk In My Shoes

**Sorry not posted sooner, but had a really crap week! Still, here it is – albeit a short one – a bridge - for want of a better word. Didn't wanna wait too long before writing as it makes it harder to get going again – I'm sure you all know what I mean! Thanks for all the story/author alerts and to Gabriel Ledger, Mariofan2 and SoxChick09 for your reviews – please keep 'em comin!**

Chapter 5

Take A Walk In My Shoes 

The locksmith turned up just as the Joker made his exit from the elevator. Trying desperately not to be noticed by the clownish figure emerging from the already closing doors, he gave an audible gasp as his way was blocked by the man in the long purple coat. He attempted to side-step, but again found himself gazing up into the piercing black rimmed eyes, which scrutinized his face before looking down to his feet.

"What size shoes d'ya take?"

"Pardon?"

"Granted!" said the Joker. "Enough of the niceties. Just tell me what size shoes you're packin'."

"E, e, eleven?"

"What? You askin' me or tellin' me?"

"Eleven," replied the man, this time with more certainty.

The Joker looked down at his own vomit splattered shoes, his face taking on the appearance of one trying to solve a particularly difficult mathematical equation. "Mmmm, one size too small. Still, if I scrunch up the old toes it should be okay for a while." Then, sighing heavily as he made his decision; "Okay, take 'em off."

"What?"

"Your shoes. Take 'em off."

"What, are you crazy or sumthin'?"

The Joker gave a high-pitched laugh, which sounded as if he were suffering from strangulation. He rested one hand on the shorter mans shoulder as if for support. "You could say that my friend!"

The locksmith laughed along uneasily, until he was halted by the sharp point of a knife at his throat.

"Don't be difficult; I'm really not in the mood. Just take off the damn shoes!"

"Okay! Okay! They're coming off! See?" The man handed over his clean shiny shoes.

The Joker released him and bent down to remove his own. He handed them to the locksmith. "Sorry about the state of 'em. I seem to have that effect on people, as I'm sure you can understand. Still, a bit of spit and polish and they'll be as good as new! Maybe you could sell 'em on e-bay! Hell, they sure cost me enough! Anyone asks, you tell 'em they was a gift from The Joker! Go on then, put 'em on!"

The man obeyed, trying hard not to come into contact with the crusty flakes of vomit clinging to the soft leather as he tied the laces. "They're too big!" he complained. "I can't wear these!"

"Aw, never mind!" cooed the Joker. "Just think of the kudos you're gonna get from walking in my footsteps! Now get the fuck outta here before I have a change of heart. Don't bother about the call out," he said, as the locksmith began to point out he had a job to do, "the lady won't be needing her locks changed anymore."

Once the van was out of sight, the Joker took a few careful steps. "Aw, fuck!" he drawled, "My feet are gonna hurt like hell after twenty minutes! This chick better appreciate what I'm gonna do for her!"

At that moment, a large shiny black Cadillac drew up. "We're going to this address," said the Joker, handing a slip of paper to the driver. He sighed with relief as he settled into the passenger seat.

His feet had already begun to ache.


	6. Chapter 6 Don't Cha Wanna Dance?

**Thanks to Gabriel Ledger, Mariofan2 and Zenrockstar for your reviews. Didn't know what to do with this chapter, so hope you enjoy it! I don't even know what's gonna happen next until I sit down to write it, so we're all finding it out as we go along! Enjoy!**

Chapter 6

Don't Cha Wanna Dance?

The seriousness of the situation hit me hard as I sat in front of my three-tier bedroom mirror – a necessity in my opinion, to achieve the optimum view from as many angles as possible – applying my lipstick. The hand holding the lip-brush began to shake with all the force of an eight on the Richter scale. What if the Joker made good on his promise? 'Don't worry, I'll kill 'em for ya!' I mean, okay, a lot of folks say loads of crazy shit like that, and it never amounts to anything; it's all verbal ranting to let out some of the anger. But in this case, the Joker was definitely _not_ joking. He'd waste anyone who pissed him off with the same lack of concern that most of us would have over ridding ourselves of a nest of ants. And seeing as I _knew_ his intention, if Matt and Soozie ended up on a mortuary slab, could I be held accountable in some way? 'Well Becks,' I admonished as I used the back of my hand to wipe off the cherry lipstick, 'this is another fine mess you've got yourself into!' I threw on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, grabbed my bag, and ran out of the apartment. It was only as the door slammed behind me, that I realized my keys were in the kitchen, where the Joker had left them.

"Oh Matthew!" Soozie breathed into his ear, "this feels so right!"

"Yeah, I know!" he groaned, all the time fumbling with his shirt buttons, whilst Soozie pulled her skimpy top over her head before discarding it at the bottom of the bed. Her curly hair, longer on top, now gave her the appearance of a poodle as it stood on end.

"I told you she wasn't the one for you."

"I know baby, I know! I'll never doubt you again!" Then, "Oh God!" as she began nibbling at his washboard stomach.

"I know how to please you don't I?" she said, her long painted fingers raking his chest.

"Uh, you sure do!" his hands massaging her hair. "This is heaven!"

The barrage of bullets struck the wall behind them, showering them with plaster. "What the fuck!" screamed Matt, launching himself onto the floor before scrambling under the bed.

Soozie screamed and dove under the duvet.

"Comin' for ya ready or not!" taunted the Joker, as he strode into the room, firing more bullets around the base of the bed. "C'mon out! No need to be shy! Wanna play a game?"

"Take anything you want," cried Soozie, "just don't hurt us!"

"Hurt you?" laughed the Joker. "I don't wanna hurt you! I just wanna play! Look, I even bought some party outfits with me," he laughed, holding up the bag of discarded bedroom-wear from Becky. Realizing these two bozo's were no threat, he put the gun back in his pocket, and dipped into the bag. "Mmmm, a maids outfit. Yes, I think this will do nicely for _you_," he said, throwing it onto the bed from where Soozie was hastily trying to put her clothes back on. "And as for _you_, lover boy, I'd like to see you as a nurse! C'mon out from under there, or I'll have to shoot you out!"

Matt crawled unwillingly from under the bed, the damp patch on the front of his trousers testimony to his fear. He held his hands up in submission. "Look, man, I don't want any trouble. Just take whatever you want and leave us alone!"

The Joker grabbed the front of Matt's shirt, pulling him forwards and upwards roughly so that his feet almost left the floor. "I've already told you, I'm not here to rob, I'm here to _play! _ Now be good and go and get yourselves changed. And _you_ make sure you have a wash; you stink of piss!"

The frightened pair edged nervously around the clown-faced intruder, on their way to the bathroom. "Don't even think about doing a runner – I'm comin' with ya!"

"This is it," said Cat, pointing towards the house, as Bob slowed the car.

"How come he can afford a place like this?" he asked, surveying the immaculate front lawn to the 2 bedroom house. "This neighbourhood doesn't come cheap."

"Yeah, well, when your mom and dad are oozing dollars out of every pore, living in a decent area, away from all the scum, isn't that much of a problem."

"Lucky bastard! Why is it always the assholes that get the best of everything, and suckers like me," he pointed towards his chest, "have to make do with the left-overs? I gotta tell ya, I'm fed up with the whole damn show!"

"Whoa there, cowboy! Now is not the time to be having a personal life crisis; you got a job to do! Let's go!"

They could see that the front door was open as they walked up the path. They stopped at the threshold and looked at each other. "We're too late, aren't we?" whispered Cat.

"We don't know that. Whatever, we _have _to check it out. Well, _I _do. Maybe you should wait in the car."

"No way! I dragged you into this; I'm coming in there!"

"Okay, but it may not be very pleasant. I've seen some terrible things in my time. I hope you have a strong stomach – you may need it."

"My stomach's fine. If I can clean up Becky's puke without losing my dinner, I can cope with anything! Lead on!"

Damn! I can't believe I've gone and locked myself out of my own place! Where's the bloody locksmith when I need him? Oh, well, it's too bad; I'll have to deal with it later. Serves me right for not going with Cat and Bob – at least I could have cadged a lift. Now I'd have to hail a cab and _that_ would cost money I could ill afford. Bloody Matt! All this is his fault! And that bloody Soozie! Why I'm putting myself out to save their sorry asses, I'll never know. Oh yeah, _that's _why! To keep my own sorry ass out of jail! I spot someone getting out of a cab over the other side of the street, and yelling, "Taxi!" run across the road, narrowly escaping ending up as road kill. I instruct the driver the way to Matt's house, and settle into the passenger seat, praying I'm not too late.

"Come on now, boys and girls, it's party time!" The Joker pushed them into the living room, ordering them onto the sofa, where they huddled together like terrified kittens, each seeking comfort from the other.

At the drinks cabinet, the Joker poured out three glasses of bourbon. "Hope ya don't mind it without ice. Now, where's the music? We can't have a party without some tunes, can we? Ah, here we are," he picked up a compilation cd, and inserted it into the Sony system next to the bar. The sound of The Pussycat Dolls filled the room. "That's better! Let's crank it up!" he sang, turning up the volume. The bass thundered, making the speakers work hard. "C'mon darling, dance for your man!" He pulled Soozie to her feet. "I said _dance, bitch!_" he shouted, firing shots around her feet.

Soozie began crying hysterically, as she moved her feet as fast as she could; trying to dodge the bullets. Matt got up to go to her rescue, but was pushed back onto the sofa, this time with the gun in his face. "Whassamatter? Don't cha like her little dance? You should, 'cos it's especially for _you!_ The least you can do is pay attention!"

And that was how Cat, Officer Bob, and Becky found the party trio – the Joker holding a gun to Matt's head, whilst Soozie danced around the room to the words, Don't' Cha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me.


	7. Chapter 7 Agent of Chaos

Chapter 7

Agent of Chaos

I know I should have been horrified at the sight of Matt looking as if he were trying to evacuate an impossibly large bowel movement, but frankly the sight of the beads of sweat pouring down into his scrunched together eyes was nothing compared to the vision of Soozie. Anyone would have been forgiven for thinking they were witnessing some perverse display of _now folks, there's a right and a wrong way to dance and this is definitely the wrong way! _Her baby-blues, in contrast to the Rat's, were wide open and fixated on the gun at his head. Her mouth was hanging half open; it had not received the message from her brain to close, and a drool of spit flew across her face as she turned her head just in time to see the smirk that I tried unsuccessfully to smother.

"_You bitch!" _she screamed as she launched herself towards me.

"Enough!" the Joker spoke harshly, as if reprimanding a naughty puppy. She was stopped in her tracks by the gun now pointing at _her_.

Officer Bob, compelled to fulfil his law enforcement duties coughed lightly, "Er, Mister…Mister… Joker, would you mind putting the gun down please? Let's not get ourselves into any trouble, eh?"

"Trouble? What trouble? I'm merely looking out for my new friend, aren't I toots?" he smiled at me, revealing slightly yellowing teeth.

The absurd thought, _I really must remind him to floss_, popped to mind, before I gathered my senses. "Look, stop being a prat and put the bloody gun down! And anyway, who asked _you_ to get involved in my fucked up love-life? I can fight my own battles thank you very much!"

"Oh, is that so? What do you think, girlfriend?" he said, looking over to where Cat was hiding behind Bob.

Her usual bravado had upped and left, now that she was in the presence of the man they called the Clown Prince of Crime. "Leave me out of it; I'm not getting involved in this. In fact, I've just remembered, I'm late for an appointment! See ya later, dude!" She turned and ran, tripping over an upturned edging on the mat by the front door. There was a loud _thwack_ as she head-butted the glass panel in the centre. Luckily, it was toughened glass, but from the excruciatingly loud, "Fuck!" that emerged from the hallway, I don't think Cat was in the mood to discuss the safety merits of a $750 pane of glass.

"Aw, now look what you gone and done!" said the Joker. Still holding the gun he strode over to Cat, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.

"Hey, gerroff me!" she kicked and screamed.

"No can do. Can't let you leave the party yet; with my reputation, I'd be getting the blame for the lump you're getting on your head."

"Oh, come on!" I shouted through after turning off the stereo, leaving Soozie temporarily unsure of where to place her feet. "This is ridiculous! This isn't one of your big showdown 'this city is mine!' events. You've managed to turn a simple boy meets girl, boy dumps girl into a major fiasco. Surely you've better things to do?"

As one unit – had we morphed into the Borg? we looked at the Joker. Waiting for an answer.

"Well no, not really. Call me stupid –

_Oh, pu-lease!_

" – but I _do_ get pissed off with always being painted as the bad guy. Okay, so I do a few wicked deeds here and there," he paused to return the gun to his pocket, "but does that make me any different from anyone else?"

_Well duh!_ _But at least he'd stopped messing about and put the gun away, so maybe he wasn't ALL bad._

"If you cut me, do I not bleed?

If I cut _him_ -" pulling a flick-knife from his other pockethe bounded over to Matt, "does _he_ not bleed?"

Okay, now he had our undivided attention. It wasn't so much to do with the trickle of blood escaping into the collar of the nurse's outfit, as the instant change that had come over the Joker. For the first time since becoming acquainted, I was afraid of him. I have to admit being flattered at first, that the local 'bad guy' as he'd just referred to himself, was prepared to exact revenge on my behalf. I mean like, wow! Who wouldn't get a warm tingly feeling knowing that someone who could strike terror into the hearts of the most feared criminals was prepared to play the role of my avenging angel? But now, that angel had taken a tumble, and had the look that the psycho's get in the movies – y'know, the bit where one minute they look totally normal, like the person you've always known, then the next it's as if they've been possessed by the most evil entity from hell.

"Steady now," said Bob as he held out a placating arm towards the Joker, whilst with the other he reached inside his jacket.

"Go ahead _Bob_, fire away; that's if you think you can hit me first," came the dark reply, as Bob found himself suddenly the target of the re-materialised gun.

The knife at Matt's throat wavered dangerously, causing the blood to flow faster.

"Oh god, please stop this!" implored Soozie. Then to me, "I'll finish with him; you can have him back, just call off your rottweiler and I promise I'll never go near Matt ever again!"

"Sooz. Shut – the – fuck – up." I said through clenched teeth, my eyes never leaving the Joker's face.

"But I mean it!" she wailed, before addressing the psycho holding a knife to her soon to be ex-boyfriends throat. "Kill _him_ if you must, just please don't hurt me! I swear I won't say anything! I won't even let on I was here! Just let me go _please!"_

"How's that make ya feel, lover boy? Knowing that she's ready to sell you out to save herself? Tell me, was she worth it? Oh, sorry, perhaps you're finding it hard to talk with a knife at your throat. There you go," he said, licking off the blood before returning it to his pocket. "So, where were we? Oh, yeah, I wanna know is she worth losing your life for? _Answer me!"_

"N, n,no."

"I didn't think so. So why did ya have to go messing your fiancé about? Look at her," he turned Matt's face so that they were both looking at me. "A babe! You wouldn't know a good thing if it got up and wacked you in the face! And to think she came running over here to save you from _me!" _

The Jokerwalked over and put his arm around my waist, the gun still trained on Bob. "Now what I wanna know is - will _you_ do the same for her!"

Nuzzling my hair out of the way he put his lips to my ear, whispering, "Don't worry doll, I ain't gonna hurt ya," before reaching his free hand around my neck and pressing hard on the carotid artery. Before I knew what was happening I passed out.

I came round to find the Joker leaning over me, breathing his musky scent around my face.

"Oh good, you're awake. Y'know ya had me worried there for a moment; I thought I'd maybe overdone it a bit. How're ya feelin'?"

"Like hell!" I muttered as I tried to sit up.

That was when I felt the restraints that held me firmly to the Joker's bed.


	8. Chapter 8 Stockholm Syndrome, Anyone?

Thank you to Dragonflamecrystal, Gabriel Ledger, Mariofan2, Mickerayla, and Secret Celebrity for your great reviews! Thanks also for all of you who added this to story/author alert – much appreciated!

Chapter 8

Stockholm Syndrome, Anyone?

"_Why_?" I asked.

"Why not? Y'see I'm interested in human nature – what makes people tick. It was quite impressive the way you were so keen to go to the rescue of your ex, especially considering the stunt he'd pulled on ya. I was kinda hoping you'd have backed me up; after all, I only did it for _you_ in the first place! Seems like you can't trust anyone these days!"

I turned my head away from his high-pitched laugh. He really was a fucknut! Teaching someone a lesson is one thing, but preparing to slit their throat after shooting them in the head, is taking it too far.

"I thought you liked me," I said, my voice breaking with fear.

"I _do!_"

"You've a funny way of showing it. No wonder you're alone if you treat all your girlfriends like this!"

"Who said you were my girlfriend?" he gloated.

I felt the instant rush of heat to my face and wished I'd kept my big mouth shut.

"Careful babe, you'll be setting yourselfalight if you're not careful." He leaned in closer to me. "I know how to cool ya down; take a look above you, up there," he pointed to the ceiling.

I raised my eyes.

The heat was replaced by a sudden cold sweat and I could feel the blush draining from my face.

Suspended from the ceiling, cutting across my midsection, was what looked like what I can only describe as a scythe; the type carried around on Halloween by party-goers dressed as the grim reaper.

"That took the colour out of your cheeks!" he crowed. "Don't waste your energy by struggling; the bands are so secure even Houdini himself woulda bin preparin' to meet his maker! It's rather ingenious even if I say so myself. I got the idea from that old Vincent Price movie The Pit and the Pendulum, 'cept in that it's the_ guy_ whose on the slab. But I've gone one better; I've got _you_ and this ain't no movie!"

At that moment, staring in horrified disbelief at his laughing face, I _hated_ him. "You fucking bastard!"

"Is that the best you can come up with? I'd have thought you'd have had a _lot_ more to say than 'you fucking bastard.' I must be losing my touch! Tell me truthfully now, have you ever actually watched that movie?"

I shook my head. Chick-lit comedies were more my kind of thing.

"Well, if you _had_ you'd know that what I've got rigged up here, just for _you_ - it's okay, you don't have to thank me – is the equivalent of the sharp-as-hell-gonna-cut-you-in-two-halves, knife-edged pendulum that swings side to side as it slowly gets lower and lower. It's first touch is light, like the wings of a butterfly. The second, a caress that slices through your clothes. The third stings as it cuts into your bare flesh, and the fourth … the fourth … SPILLS YOUR FUCKING GUTS OUT!"

"STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!" I begged, attempting to break my bonds despite knowing how futile it was.

"Oh, Rebecca, Rebecca," he chided, "that's not nice! You've gone and hurt my feelings! I've gone to all this trouble just to show you how shallow this Matt of yours is; I mean d'ya _really_ think he's gonna drop everything to come and save you? Y'see," he licked his lips, "when you told me how he cheated on you, I knew straight off he was a jerk. Only problem was, I didn't think _you_ did. And I still don't. I think despite what he did to you, you'd have him back –

_Like hell_, I thought

- and I felt it was my duty as the fella who was there to pick up the pieces, that I prove to you what a bastard he really is. I must say, I just don't understand why you're not more appreciative, seeing as all the bother I've gone to and all."

If I hadn't been strapped to the bed like some mental patient in the throes of extreme violence, I'd have ripped his fucking throat out! How _dare_ he look so hard done by? How _dare_ he assume that slicing me in two just to prove what a bastard Matt the Rat was, was doing me a favour? I really should have learned my lesson by now and stayed well clear of people I was initially attracted to; because they were always, without exception, out and out nutters.

"Please stop!" I repeated.

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"Because earlier you promised you wouldn't hurt me."

"And I'm not going to. If anything happens to you it'll be lover boys fault for not reciprocating your noble gesture."

Well that was just great. My survival depended on the Joker's last intended victim. Yeah, like _that_ was going to happen.

"In the meantime, I'm gonna get this show on the road." He presented me with a small black box with two buttons on it. "This red one will stop the action. We want the green – that's the one to start her up. It's important to me that you participate in this, just so you feel you have _some_ control, so I'm gonna let _you _press the start button. What d'ya think about that then?"

I wished I could have matched his enthusiasm, but somehow my heart just wasn't in it. Having my top half detached from the rest of me had not been in any of my plans for the future.

"I think," I chose my words carefully, "that if you were serious earlier about not always being thought of as the bad guy, then you're veering way off course."

"Hey c'mon, I knew it wasn't gonna be easy! And considering the agony my poor feet went through being squeezed into shoes that were too small, you should consider yourself lucky I've set the timer on this baby for 60 minutes. I was gonna give it half an hour, but I gotta give Matt a fighting chance, don't I?"

Feet? Shoes? What the hell was he rambling about?

Seeing the confusion on my face, he explained. "After I left your apartment, there was no way I was gonna be putting my own shoes back on; not after you'd thrown up all over 'em! Lucky for me I bumped into the locksmith on the way out. After a bit of friendly persuasion he gave me his shoes. _Unlucky_ for me, they were a size too small. I wouldn't be surprised if I get a bunion because of 'em. And I've always been careful with footwear; bunions run in my family."

I didn't give a flying fuck if weeping leprosy ran in his family – I wanted out of this fucking contraption right now!

"Shame you weren't as careful with your teeth!" I hissed as I tried to sit up.

"Right that's enough!" He grabbed my left hand, shoved the remote underneath and pressed my middle finger on the start button. The instrument of torture above me began to swing in a wide arc across the centre of my body. He bent his head to mine and raised his eyes. "Beautiful isn't it? Don't worry, like I said you've got an hour before it'll do any serious damage. And who knows, Matt may come through for you. And if not, well, at least we'll both know I was right about him all along. And as for my teeth, they're the result of all the candy bars my parents fed me when I was a kid – to stop me biting people!" He pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. "And now we wait."

There was no point in struggling. I gazed steadily at the monstrous knife, hoping maybe I could hypnotize myself into falling asleep before the first cut. But then I'd wake up anyway, wouldn't I? Instead I closed my eyes, concentrating instead on my favourite music tracks. Mmmm, not such a good idea. Stuff like Bauhaus's _Bela Lugosi's Dead; Gone Away_ by Offspring; and Gun N Roses _November Rain_ did little to calm my nerves. I swore to myself if I came out of this in one piece I'd develop a taste for music that was more in line with my chick-lit reading material.

"Okay, that's your first fifteen minutes gone," said the Joker, looking at his watch.

Not bothering to acknowledge him, I began scrolling through all the things I'd wanted to do in my life before I died. Things like learning to knit. Yeah, I know it sounds lame, but how good would it feel when someone asked, _Where did you get that jumper from, it's gorgeous, _and you could tell them you made it yourself! I wanted to jump out of an aeroplane shouting _Geronimo!_ I wanted to meet the cast of C_harmed, _and sing on stage with the new improved Britney. I wanted to fall hopelessly head-over-heels in love again! Forget about Matt the Rat – there must be lots of decent guys out there! Okay maybe not lots, but surely there must be _some?_ That was it! I just needed to come on strong to the Joker; seduce him into letting me go. I forced myself to look at him.

"Half an hour," he said, thinking I was after a time check.

I looked up. The scythe was halfway towards its final destination.

I focussed on his face again. Underneath all the make-up anyone could tell he was quite a hottie. His warm brown eyes were like heat seeking missiles; when he looked at you it was as if he was looking right into your soul. The lipstick accentuated his lips, but even without it they were shaped like Cupid 's bow. As for the hair, well I've always preferred guys with longer locks; especially if it's a bit curly. So what the hell had I been thinking of when I hooked up with Matt? Okay, you've got me there; he was financially loaded. But honestly after going out for a couple of months, I put aside his failings on my eye candy wish list, and fell in love with him for who he was. More fool me. Next time, if there _was_ a next time, I wanted to be able to tick all the boxes. And the man holding me captive already ticked the lot. In spades.

"Penny for 'em?"

"What?"

"Your thoughts."

"Oh, nothing really," I sighed. "I was just thinking what a fool I've been. You're right about Matt; he's not going to come is he? Not that I want him back, but it would be nice to know he cared enough to save my life. But he won't, because he's a fucking coward!"

The blade was getting uncomfortably near to my stomach, and despite my earlier resolve, I was sweating profusely. "How long?" I asked.

He wiped my face gently with a handkerchief he'd taken from his waistcoat pocket. "Eight minutes."

Was it wishful thinking on my part or had his voice lost some of its earlier confidence?

"Why don't you just let me go? You don't really want to do this. You're trying to be good, remember? And I can see it in your eyes that you think this is going too far. C'mon, just stop this now. You've proved your point, and I appreciate what you've done for me, setting all this up to show me what Matt's really like. I'm so over him. What I need is to find someone strong and caring, someone who'd do anything for me."

"Like the crazy things I've done for _you?_ See, I'm good at sizing people up. I look right inside to see what they need, then I give it to 'em."

"And what about what they _want?"_

"Why, what do _you_ want?" he asked, his lips a hairs-breath away from mine.

"_You,_ I want _you,"_ I told him. My chest was rising and falling at quite a pace, not so much from my impending dread of the sharp blade now mere inches away from cutting through my tee shirt, as from the sheer animal magnetism emanating off my captor. This must be that Stockholm syndrome in action, I thought deliriously; where the victim falls for the captor. God, I wanted him so bad, it would almost be worth dying for. At least I'd go out with a smile on my face and a _very_ happy memory. Okay, maybe not the smile, but hey, you can't have everything. "_Kiss me,"_ I begged. "_Please!"_

"I can't do this!" he shouted, standing up so abruptly he knocked over the chair.

_What? He's been giving me all the signs, then when I respond he _'can't dothis!'_? Lord, take me now! My track record with the opposite sex just hit an all-time low._

But no! I'd got it all wrong! He'd stopped the infernal machine! The huge knife had come to a halt, almost but not quite, making contact with my clothing. His hands were shaking as he untied the straps binding my arms, then he released my ankles.

He helped me off the bed and pulling me towards him planted the most exquisite kiss on me. My own passion ignited and I kissed him back, savouring the feel of his open mouth and tongue. He grabbed the edge of my tee shirt and pulled it off my body, groaning with pleasure at the sight of my boobs as they spilled out of my balconette bra. It was as I was grappling with the button and zip on his trousers, that the door sprang open, banging loudly against the wall.

Matt stumbled in, panting as if he'd just run a marathon. His relief at finding me alive was replaced with a look of sheer disdain as he sized up the situation. Seconds passed. The silence was deafening as all three of us stood in suspended animation. I was the first to shatter it, with an ungrateful, "Matt, you _bastard!"_


	9. Chapter 9 How Could She?

**Gabriel Ledger, Holly Quinn, Mariofan2, and Mickerayla - thanks for the lovely reviews. Sorry this took longer than usual – writer's block!**

Chapter 9

How Could She?

Soozie paced furiously around her apartment, seething at the humiliation she had suffered at the hands of the Joker. She had been aware that Becky had a strange choice of friends, but this was the absolute limit. It confirmed everything she had always thought about the sort of company she kept. The lengths some people would go to! Just because she couldn't handle being dumped didn't mean she had to go and ask her nefarious friend to play re-matchmaker!

She hated Becky with a vengeance that bordered on the wrong side of murderous. Well, Becky wasn't the only one with dubious contacts.

Soozie studied her phone, struggling to control the impulse to punch in the number which would set her on the path to her first dealings with the criminal underworld. Tucking the lip-shaped headset under her chin, she quickly tapped in the number before she lost her nerve.

"Yo," said a deep male voice.

"Daz? It's me; Soozie."

"Hey, wass happnin'?"

"I've got a question. Do you still hang with AJ?"

"Why you wanna know?"

"I've got a job for him – one of his specialities."

"And you want me to set it up?"

"You don't mind?"

"Course not. Anytime, girl. I told you that before."

"Ok, here's what I want you to do."

It's one of life's mysteries that you can spend weeks or even months tracking down a particular item such as a pair of shoes, a handbag, or in Cat's and my case, a day looking for a back copy of Twinkle magazine. When you finally reconcile yourself to the fact that you're not going to find it, decide you didn't want it after all, and stop looking, it's suddenly in your face wherever you go.

That just about summed up my feelings as the Joker and myself looked guiltily over at Matt.

"Becks, how could you?" he wimpered.

"Why not?" I challenged. "It's not as if _you_ wanted me anymore, is it? No, you decided to go back to Soozie the Floozie! Well I've got news for you; even though you galloped to my rescue, _I_ don't want _you_ anymore!"

"Not when she's got me," added the Joker, slipping his arm around me.

I shrugged him off. "What are you on about? I don't want particularly want you either!"

"What did you just say?" he spoke softly, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

"You heard. You knock me out, bring me here, tie me to a bed, and then nearly fucking slice me in half and you think I'm gonna want _you?_ I don't think so!"

"But I thought –"

"Yeah, I know. You thought I'd be_ so_ grateful when you let me go that I'd forget what you put me through? I kissed you – so what? It doesn't mean we're gonna suddenly turn into Branjelina!"

"You're gonna pay for this!" he spat, and pushed me roughly away from him. Matt caught me, and I felt a sharp pang of regret as the Joker stood by the open door, gesturing for us to leave. "Get out!"

Matt and I got out of there as fast as we could. I had to let him drag me along, after all, he'd found his way in. I'd been unconscious when I'd arrived. From what I could see, the house was furnished to an exceedingly high standard. From the Joker's ill-gotten gains no doubt.

"Do you want me to see you home?"

"No thank you. I thought I'd already made it quite clear I want nothing more to do with you. Anyway, I'm capable of making my own way back."

"At least let me find you to a cab; we don't even know where we are. I only found you thanks to a series of cryptic messages radioed through on Bob's police frequency from the Joker."

"Oh, all right." I felt tired all of a sudden, and didn't have the strength to argue. As we walked away from the house, I turned round just in time to see the Joker step back from the top window from where he had been watching us.

I bit my lip as I replayed the bitchy things I'd said to him. Why did I do that? It wasn't as if I didn't have feelings for him – truth be told, he made my heart pound like a tennis ball! I analysed my actions as we walked. What it came down to I think, was that I knew I always screwed up. And getting involved with the Joker would be the mother of all screw-ups. I needed someone normal – normal, law-abiding and _boring_. Excitement and red hot passion were over-rated anyway.

"Where did Cat and Bob go?"

"Oh, I totally forgot!" Matt slapped himself upside the head. "Bob drove us over here and dropped me off about half a mile away. They weren't supposed to come too near or else," he made a cutting gesture across his throat. "We've to meet them over on the next street."

"What made you all think there'd be anything left of me?"

"That's what me and Bob said. Cat knew you'd be ok though."

"How?"

"She said something about us not needing to worry about you, that the Joker was a 'marked man', and that if anyone needed help, it would be him."

"Cheeky cow!" Oh, the nights Cat and I had spent making lists of my crushes – my 'marked men' as they became known as. Well, even if the Joker _had_ been a marked man, I was putting a stop to that right now. I'd settle for a blanket and a cup of hot cocoa from now on!

"There they are," said Matt, waving to where they were parked.

Cat sprang out of the passenger seat, and ran across to us, hugging me so tight I could hardly breathe. "Thank God you're ok! I was so worried! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Really?" I hugged her back. "According to Matt you were convinced it was the Joker who needed rescuing from _me!"_

"Yeah, well," she said sheepishly "it was more a case of me trying to play down the seriousness of the situation. Come on, let's get you home."

As the four of us made our way back to our familiar territory, I asked Bob to put out a call for the locksmith.

"Of course, you haven't got your bag after being hauled off earlier."

"I didn't have it with me to start with. But when I ran out of my place to follow you to Matt's, I left my keys indoors."

"Silly cow!" muttered Cat.

"Oh, shut up!"

**My God! I thought I'd never get started on this chapter! I thoroughly enjoyed writing the last one, and then stalled completely! Now I've bagged this one, I'm hoping for an easier ride with the next one!**


	10. Chapter 10 Till Death Do Us Part

Thanks to Gabriel Ledger for last review! And for all story alerts. Sorry this chapter took so long - blame rocky start to 2009!

**Chapter 10**

**Till Death Do Us Part**

"You might want to think about leaving a spare set of keys with someone you can trust," said the locksmith as he let us into my apartment.

"I'll do it," offered Cat.

"It would definitely save you a lot of trouble. Seeing as you appear to be allergic to your own house keys. Oh by the way," he opened the large tool bag, "these belong to your, er, flamboyant friend. I thought I'd better return them and this seems like a good opportunity. I wouldn't want him coming after me for them. I took the liberty of cleaning them up."

I took the shoes off him. "Er, thanks. I'm not sure I'll be seeing him again, but I'll hold onto them."

"Good. He doesn't strike me as the kind of person you'd want to get on the wrong side of, if you know what I mean."

Oh, yes, I knew what he meant all right. And of course, in true style, I'd done just that. In fact I was probably so far on the wrong side that I'd end up as fish food. I blanched at the thought of what, or more to the point, who, I'd unwittingly unleashed on myself. I did the only thing I could think of – I Googled him.

Mmmmm, not much help; date of birth: unknown, real name: unknown, birthplace: unknown.

This was a waste of time, oh wait, _miscellaneous_ – maybe I'd find something here.

I gasped as I looked into the eyes of the Joker and then down to the barrel of the Smith & Wesson M-76 Submachine gun (according to the blurb under the picture) pointing at my heart. Not that he was really there of course. What had leapt at me from the LCD screen was a slightly blurred image of him, taken by an amateur photographer as various local villains were sent to meet their maker. The dangerous glint in his eyes and the grimace on his lips felt like icy water poured down the back of my neck, and trickling down my spine. The photograph had caught the absolute look of someone intent on exacting the most vicious revenge on those whom he felt had wronged him. Clasping my hand over my mouth I ran into the bathroom and threw up.

Turning off the computer, I decided it was best not to read the miscellaneous information – my reaction to the shot of the Joker in action had been bad enough. I felt all jumpy inside and my head was beginning to pound out what felt like a death knell. I swallowed a couple of painkillers and went to bed.

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"Did you get the photos of the bitch?"

"Yeah I forwarded them to AJ."

"Good. I'm sending you a list of places and times she's likely to hang out

said Soozie as she sent the email to Daz. "The best bet is probably for him to wait outside where she works, and catch her going in, going to lunch or going home."

"'kay. Leave it to AJ; he knows what he's doing."

"He'd better. I don't want any come-backs."

"No worries. It'll be untraceable."

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It had been a long time since anyone had pushed his buttons more than the girl who'd just told him in no uncertain terms to get lost. The Joker had vowed to himself years before, on the eve of his doomed wedding that he would never leave himself vulnerable to anyone ever again. He had totally believed that he and Trisha were soul mates.

After a chance meeting (again, in a club) they'd shared a cab back to her place, where they talked into the early hours of the morning. They had so much in common – favourite authors (Ian Fleming), films (all of the Godfather series), food (Mexican), and even the same hates (noisy eaters, dirty fingernails and tiny dogs that could double up as toilet brushes.) By the time he left to set up another of his deals, they had made plans to go to dinner that same evening. When she skipped down the steps from her house, down the path to where he was waiting in his car, he thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful. She had an aura about her that crackled with energy; he could almost see the sparks leaping from the dark, wild curls that blew around her face. Over dinner they talked some more and when they arrived back at her house; they had already dedicated their lives to each other.

He was besotted; an unknown emotion for him. He fell totally and utterly in love.

And he fell hard.

So hard that when he stumbled in on his beloved, knickers round her ankles, legs akimbo and wrapped around the waist of his best man, she might as well have taken a knife to his chest and ripped his heart out.

Instead, it was herself and her 'final fling' who met with a knife. A knife that rammed deep into their flesh, spilling precious life-blood across the luxurious bed linen. Linen that the groom had bought especially for his bride on their wedding night. She looked at him now in disbelief, as plunging the knife into her chest he wrenched the heart from her body as it struggled in its efforts to keep her alive. Bringing the failing organ to his lips, he kissed it tenderly, never taking his eyes off her stricken face. "From me to you, babe," he said, before shoving it down her throat. Using the back of his hand he wiped the blood off his lips, smearing it across his face as he did so. "Eat your heart out, bitch."

As he closed the door to the chamber of horrors behind him, he simultaneously slammed shut the door to his heart. And it had remained tightly shut ever since.

Until now.


	11. Chapter 11 Paranoid

Sorry this has taken sooo long - unfortunately life has a habit of getting in the way of the fun stuff I want to do!

Chapter 11

Paranoid

I couldn't stop thinking about the Joker, and worse, I saw him practically everywhere I went. When I was in the supermarket I thought I saw the back of his purple coat as he disappeared behind the large pillar at the top of the canned food aisle. He was in the car that sped past me as I waited at the traffic lights. And the one that really scared me; the day I went for my lunch in McDonalds. As Isat down with my order of double cheese burger, medium fries and a coke, the person on the other side of the partition stood up to leave. I saw something fall onto the floor, and reached down to retrieve it. The call died in my throat as I realised what I had picked up – the Joker's card. I fainted into my cheeseburger before I had time to take the first bite.

By the end of the week, AJ had a pretty good idea of Becky's movements. He monitored her work schedule and was relieved to find she kept to the same daily timetable – it would make his job that much easier. He prided himself on his ability to remain out of sight, so was disconcerted when she appeared to become very jumpy and nervous on his second day of surveillance. She was constantly looking over her shoulder and one day unknowingly crossed his path. He could almost feel the aura of fear that emanated from her.

The meeting had been purely accidental. AJ had left the comfort of his car to cross the street to the deli, where he purchased a black coffee and a ham and cream cheese bagel for lunch. It had happened on the way back to the car. After this, he thought it wiser not to sit in the vehicle all the time and had to find other spots from which to watch her, in case she became aware of the car.

* * *

When I came round after a few seconds the last thing on my mind was food. I was relieved no one had witnessed my nosedive, or if they had, had chosen to ignore it. I was _so_ embarrassed. Also, all rational thought had flown and it was all I could do to find Cat's number on my cell phone and get her to meet me.

She found me on the bench outside McDonald's. She sat down and looked at me, concern all over her face. "Beck's what's happened to you? You could carry luggage in those bags under your eyes; you look like shit."

"He, he, he's been following me!" I managed to explain through my sobbing.

"Who, sweetheart? Who's been following you?"

"_Him!_ The Joker."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty much, yeah. I've had the feeling of being watched all week, not at home, thank God, but when I'm at work."

If I'd been expecting reassurance that this was a good thing, I was wrong. "Yeah, that makes sense," she muttered. "Wack you in public. That way it'd look more like an accident. Devious bastard!"

"And today, I'd come here for lunch, and I swear I saw him leaving as I sat down. I can't stand much more of this. I'm constantly on the alert, and I'm so jumpy at work they keep asking if I'm ok. It's getting so I'm terrified every waking minute, and then at night I can't even sleep!"

"But why is he doing this? I thought he, y'know, kinda fancied you."

"He did until I threw it all back in his face! I honestly thought I was going to die when he had me strapped under that huge pendulum, then when he let me go I suppose the relief turned to anger and I just wanted to hurt him back."

"Well, I reckon you succeeded there," she said.

"Yeah, but the truth is I really liked him!"

"I know you did. But what are you going to do now? You can't hide yourself away forever. Maybe you should front him and tell him how you really feel."

"I can't!" I blubbed into my tissue. "It's too late! He'll never forgive me!"

"You don't know that! Okay, so it looks bad now, but how often do you hear me say _I'm_ going to kill someone who's pissed me off? Yeah, loads," she reminded me, as she saw the look I gave her. "But it never goes anywhere does it? It's all talk. And that's probably what's going on here. I know I just called him a devious bastard, but it's obvious he's really into you – even Bob thinks so."

"Oh, does he? And how are things between you and Officer Bob?" I asked, glad of the chance to change the subject.

Cat blushed as she lowered her eyes. "Well, you know, we've been seeing quite a lot of each other lately."

"And?"

"He's asked me to move in with him."

"That's fantastic!"

"I just hope you don't mind, that's all."

"Of course not! Why should I?"

"Well, you know, what with the way things turned out with you and Matt, I thought you might –

"Don't be ridiculous!" I said, giving her a big hug. "So when's the moving in day?"

She gave me a sheepish look. "Er, today actually."

"I'm really happy for you," I said. "For both of you," I added before dissolving into sobs.

Cat put her arm around me and pulled me to my feet. "C'mon, you're coming back with me."

"But I'll be in the way! You don't want me cluttering the place up, and neither will Bob."

"Don't be silly. Anyway, to tell you the truth, he could hear the state you were in when you phoned and he told me not to go back without you."

"Ok, you win; let's go."

Minutes later, making our way through the multi-story car park to Cat's silver Volvo, a black Trans-am careered around the corner, almost adding us to the graffiti that decorated every flat surface of the building. We inhaled sharply, instinctively flattening ourselves against the cold concrete.

"Fuckin' hell that was close!" I said, my hand on my chest to steady the sudden pounding of my heart.

"No shit Sherlock! No wonder you're fucking paranoid with nutters like that zooming about!

Asshole!" she shouted to the taillights of the car as it sped out of the gloom and into daylight.

Suddenly they heard the screech of tyres and as they looked round, the back left door of the trans-am was flung open and the silhouette of what appeared to be a tied up bundle was pushed out of the car. The door slammed shut and the tyres burned rubber as the vehicle sped off.

The girls ran over to where the body was rolling around, trying desperately to free itself from the duct tape that secured its arms to its sides. As they drew nearer, they could see that the victim's mouth had also been taped shut.

"Hey, it's ok, you're ok," stammered Cat as she knelt beside the body, turning it onto it's back so she could rip the tape away, eager to hear the frantic sounds emerging from the struggling form.

Familiar eyes, wide with fear, met hers.

Then Bob fastened his gaze on Becky. "What have you gotten us into? You should have left well alone – you have no idea who you're messing with! Now we're all dead!"


	12. Chapter 12 Who Goes There

**Chapter 12**

**Who Goes There?**

Bob's face – the bits that were visible through the blood and swellings - was not a pretty sight. "I gotta call this in," he groaned.

"Who did this to you?" cried Cat as she dabbed gently at his face.

"I dunno," he winced as the antiseptic seeped into the cuts. "As cliché as it sounds; they jumped me from behind."

"But you said we didn't know who we were messing with," said Becks. "So you _must_ know who they were. Was it the Joker and his mob? I've had the feeling all week I'm being followed, and then today, I thought I saw him in MacDonalds, that's why I called Cat. He's got me in a right state."

"No, I don't think they were the Jokers' goons. If they were, they've gone soft because otherwise I'd be fish food by now. And as for you not knowing who you were messing with – that's the message they told me to give you."

"But I haven't done anything! Well, not apart from pissing off the clown prince!"

"Well you've sure upset someone, honey," said Cat. "And now it looks like innocent people are getting dragged into it."

"What do you mean by that?" spat Becky. "Just what do you think I get up to in my spare time? The odd drug deal? Part-time gunslinger?"

"You've done something to someone! Look at the state of my boyfriend! Does this look like nothing to you?" she gestured towards Bob's face. "I'm sorry to say this, Becks, but you're on your own from now on! I don't want to get involved!"

"But you're _not_ involved! I don't even know what it is I'm supposed to have done, or who I've upset! Besides," she said as she delved into her bag and pulled out the Jokers card, "whoever it was that I saw dropped _this _and there's only one person we know who carries this particular card."

"Okay, that's enough you two!" groaned Bob. "Stop the arguing and get me some painkillers will you? I've got a terrible headache!"

The Joker knew he'd been spotted, and mentally reprimanded himself. _I must_ _be losing my touch!_ he thought, as he removed his purple gloves. _Why oh why did I have to_ get_ involved with this annoying creature? She throws up over my shoes, shouts at me, and then has the balls to tell me I mean nothing to her! In front of her no-hoper ex-boyfriend no less! I wouldn't mind, but we both know she's crazy about me, so why's she playing games? _As much as he loved the concept of chaos, it wasn't nearly as much fun when he was on the receiving end. And she _was_ chaos. She was also in danger if she did but know it. All week he'd been watching the man in the car. A small-time hood, but that made the situation worse for Becks. Small-time equalled no finesse; no class. When the Joker went to work, at least he did it with style. But whatever Becky had gotten herself into now she needed his help whether she liked it or not. He cared for her, dammit! And he intended to make sure that his girl, for that was how he'd come to think of her, despite whatever she may think, came to no harm. Shaking his head in frustration at the feelings she stirred in him, he took out his cell phone, ready to call in a few favours.

Out of sight of the house, the thug in the ancient, practically pre-historic Pacific Blue Vauxhall Viva relayed information to AJ via his mobile. He spoke softly but there was no disguising the fact that he was itching to make a move. "I'm tellin' you man, they're _all_ inside. Just give me the word and I'll take 'em out."

"Now listen to me you idiot; don't go getting trigger happy. This ain't the time _or_ the place. Not to mention the fact that one of them's a cop! All I wanted was for you to find where they're hangin' out. Now we know, we can get back to the client and find out what's to be done, you got that? _You got that_?" he repeated into the silence at the other end.

He continued to reinforce his order before he realised he was talking to himself.

He dialled Suzy who answered straight away. "We've got a problem," he informed her. By the time he'd filled her in on the likelihood of his employee taking things into his own hands she was in a silent fury.

"Wherever you are, come and get me," she said through clenched teeth. "I'll be ready."

"What's that?" said Becky, as a noise came from the hallway.

"Stay back," ordered Bob as he leapt to his feet and positioned himself behind the front room door, "there's someone in the house."

"Great," said Cat under her breath, "I've only just moved in and I'm already getting burgled."

Bob drew his gun, aiming it ahead of himself before yanking the door wide open. He was met with a 9mm suppressed Glock pointed at his forehead.

"Whoa, whoa hold on there partner," came the softly spoken reply. "I'm not here for you; I've been sent for somebody else."

He gazed around the room before settling his eyes on Becky. "The Joker sent me," he told her, offering his hand for her to take. "Come with me if you want to live."


End file.
